It Was Worth It All
by Me
Summary: The Heroes gather for a reunion on a historic day in Brooklyn - the day Jackie Robinson breaks the color barrier in baseball


IT WAS WORTH IT ALL  
  
Peter Newkirk looked at the thing he held in his hand with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. "What in the world is this?"  
  
"It's a hot dog."  
  
Newkirk glanced at Andrew Carter, his former partner in crime at Stalag 13 and rolled his eyes. "I know it's a hot dog, Andrew. The bloody vendor gave you two of 'em when you called out 'Hot dogs here!' That still doesn't bring me any closer to knowin' what it is. What's it made of?"  
  
Frenchman Louis LeBeau, seated on Newkirk's left in the single-decked ballpark, had seen the odd items being sold elsewhere. He shrugged and said matter of factly, "Maybe it's made of emilac."  
  
Newkirk shook his head. That had been an in joke ever since he and LeBeau had come to the United States to visit. Any strange, new thing to them instantly was explained away with a chemical that didn't exist. A chemical that LeBeau had been proclaimed the inventor of back at Stalag 13, as an aide in one of the Heroes' top secret missions.  
  
"I'll 'emilac' you. Here, Carter, you bought it, you eat the bloody thing. I'll stick with peanuts. At least I'm used to helpin' myself to some of the elephants' snacks when I'm backstage with the circus." He gave the hotdog back to Carter.  
  
"Sorry I'm late, guys. Did I miss anything, Kinch?" General - formerly Colonel - Robert E. Hogan sat on the far right of the group, next to James Kinchloe.  
  
"Nope. They're just about to start the national anthem." All five joined the rest of the crowd in standing and placing hands and/or caps over their hearts. They sang proudly and joyfully, though mostly off key. Their eyes watered as the song neared an end. It was almost two years to the day since they'd been liberated from Stalag 13.  
  
Stalag 13. Kinch's mind had been on that place for much of the day. Indeed, for much of the last few weeks - ever since his friends had confirmed Kinch's invitation and said they would be there for a reunion starting the previous Saturday. And, they had arrived, though Hogan had had enough work that he hadn't gotten to the game until just before it started.  
  
They cheered quietly until the object of their interest came up to bat for the first time. He hit a ball sharply toward the left side of the infield, and sped down the line toward first base.  
  
"Out," cried the umpire. The Heroes watched as the player turned, seemingly ready to argue the call - which could have gone either way - then stopped. He ignored the questionable call and went down into the dugout. Hogan smiled at the self-control. It was quite impressive, all things considered - as was the man's speed. He'll do great things someday, he said to himself.  
"About time huh? I remember you telling me about a fellow in Detroit - Stearnes, was it?"  
  
"Yeah," Kinch said absently. "Turkey Stearnes. Great outfielder."  
  
"I got to meet Ted Williams we both came home - he was a flyer in the Marines, you know. He says the Hall of Fame needs to think about these guys, too, if they're truly dedicated to enshrining all the best. I told him when he makes the Hall he should make his speech about that. He said he'd been thinking about the same thing," Hogan said matter-of-factly. "He's intent on being the best hitter who ever lived."  
  
Carter suddenly interrupted his monologue toward Newkirk, a former soldier from Britain, and LeBeau, a former French solder. He turned, wide- eyed, toward Hogan. "Wow, you got to meet Ted Williams?!" he shouted for half their section of the ball park to hear. "The Ted Williams? The man who hit .400 back in '41?"  
  
"Yep. Being from New England, I had to ask if I could. Just one of those little perks," Hogan said. He was quite modest - he actually idolized the younger Williams, not just for his phenomenal baseball ability, but for his dogged determination to fight for his country, too. He had been one of their better ones at training other pilots, which was Williams' main job during the war. He reportedly had 20/12 vision; better than "perfect."  
  
Hogan's exploits during the war had earned him the right to meet him if it could be arranged, which it had. The great hitter carried the same intensity to his job that Hogan had to his. Williams was so determined to perfect his hitting that he would practice swinging wherever he could with imaginary bats - even while waiting at stop lights when walking.  
  
Hogan, meanwhile, had honed his skills to become a true master spy - wanting, like Williams, to be the best ever, though he would never tell anyone that. And, the four men seated with him had been part of a group known as Hogan's Heroes. They were the All-Stars, the main cogs of this unit that had operated the most incredible top secret organization of all during the war.  
  
They had operated it in the heart of Germany, from inside a German Prisoner of War camp. That camp had been Stalag 13.  
  
The Heroes continued to watch the game, their minds happily away from the dangers of that camp. They had carried out many types of covert missions. Some had involved rescuing airmen. Some had involved rescuing captured Underground agents. Some had involved stealing secret plans or helping people defect - that last had been aided by LeBeau's pretending to be a famous chemist who had experimented with synthetic fuel. Hogan had told their bungling camp kommandant, Wilhelm Klink, that LeBeau had invented emilac as part of that ruse.  
  
However, their missions had also brought much danger, forced them to improvise in incredible ways, accomplish nearly impossible feats, and impersonate Germans on numerous occasions - even Hitler himself! And, of course, if they'd been caught, with the amount of information they had, the methods the Gestapo would have used...well, even Hogan didn't want to think about that.  
  
"Holy cow, did you see that play?" the boyish Carter shouted as the Braves' third baseman dove to take away a sure base hit, then threw to second practically from his belly. Even Newkirk and LeBeau were impressed - though partly because it gave Carter a moment to lapse into silence. It seemed that whenever he wasn't eating ice cream and hot dogs, he was going through a rapid monologue trying to explain the nuances of the game to the foreigners. Nuances that would have been more easily understood had they not just comprehended two innings ago that those foul balls were considered strikes - unless the batter already had two strikes, of course.  
  
"Andrew, we could all tell that was a great play, why don't you just leave it at that?" LeBeau asked.  
  
Newkirk waved his hand. "Aw, don't bother, Louie. Whatever you say, 'e's still gonna find a way to compare it to some guy named Wamby an' his tripping play in the Series in 1920, or maybe talk about how Babe Ruth was the best player ever till he got Lou Gehrig's Disease."  
  
Carter was aghast. "It was a triple play that Bill Wambsganss made unassisted in 1920. And, Babe Ruth never had Lou Gehrig's Disease, Lou Gehrig had Lou Gehrig's Disease." He watched as Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Well think about it. Why would a great player die and then have the disease named after someone else?" Newkirk playfully pulled Carter's Brooklyn cap down over his eyes.  
  
LeBeau leaned over and said, "Anyway, thanks for inviting us to this game, Kinch."  
  
"Hey, no problem," Kinch said absently, still lost in his thoughts, but with an enormous grin on his face. "It was the worst kept secret in the city, that he'd be signed. When my one cousin called and mentioned this last month, I just knew we had to try and make it a reunion."  
  
"Yep, there's nothing more American than baseball," Hogan mused. He was glad to have an exciting game to introduce his foreign friends to - the 26,000 plus fans were clearly enjoying themselves in a very close ball game.  
  
"All right," shouted a woman in the bleachers. She rang a cowbell at a good play that the Dodgers made on defense, and continued to holler.  
  
"That woman's been there since the '30s, I think my cousin said," Kinch informed the others. "She always has her cowbell, and her voice reminds of an air raid siren."  
  
"An' that band reminds me of Klink an' his lousy violin playin'," Newkirk responded.  
  
Carter pointed to the sign they carried. "Hey, look. It says 'Sym- phony band.' That's funny."  
  
"Sounds like that's what they are," LeBeau added.  
  
Kinch nodded. "I asked, they don't usually do guest performances, but they said they might for someone good enough at playing bad - they're kind of like mascots almost. They've been together quite a while, too."  
  
"I bet we could get old Klink to leave his job as Schultz's bookkeeper for a while and come play a bit for them," Hogan said. Klink played the violin very badly. Schultz was the chief of the guards at Stalag 13 - and had constantly ignored the Heroes' antics. He had been more or less a neutral, though perhaps slightly favoring the Allies, as he could see some major problems with the Nazis. He had just wanted people to be nice to each other and stop this war so he could reopen his toy factor. He had managed to do that recently.  
  
The band played louder as the game's excitement intensified in the seventh. The player who had been signed recently laid down a fabulous bunt to try and push the tying run to second. He was so fast, the first baseman had to hurry his throw - and the batter wound up on second base after the ball hit him. Moments later, he scored what would prove to be the winning run on Pete Reiser's hit.  
  
The fans all cheered as the last out was made in the 5-3 win. Kinch, however, was perhaps the most subdued of them all as the Heroes stood around, waiting for the crowd to diminish before trying to leave themselves.  
  
"Hey, Kinch, what's on your mind?" LeBeau asked.  
  
"It was worth it all."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"It was worth it all, Louis. All those sleepless nights, all the worries and dangers, all those times we were almost caught. All the anxiety. When Jackie Robinson scored that winning run today, when the fans cheered regardless of his race, when the whole team, regardless of race, came together and won..."  
  
"Oh, yeah, you said somethin' about this being the first integrated team ever," Newkirk realized. Hogan's Heroes had been integrated - Kinch and another of the All Stars, Baker, were black, after all, and there were a few other black prisoners in their unit Newkirk was so used to the way Hogan had run things, he hadn't really thought about that being unusual until Kinch's statement reminded him.  
  
Kinch nodded. "That's right. White teams had played the Negro League teams before in exhibitions. But, this was the first time a Negro ballplayer ever played on a major league team."  
  
"And, it wouldn't have been possible," Hogan added pensively, "unless we'd gone through all that we did, to defeat the idea of the 'master race.'" He mulled over all that they'd gone through, and all that would still have to be done in his own country. "This is a great beginning," he said. "And, you're right. The barriers are going to come down, because we chose to give it all. It really was worth it." He snickered as he heard Carter going on about Josh Gibson's mammoth home runs. There was a man who understood the importance of the simple things in life.  
  
"Come on, Andrew, it's just a game," LeBeau said.  
  
"Oh, it's a game, LeBeau. But a game that means so much to us Americans. And, the battle Jackie Robinson is facing...well, it, and all the other big steps we'll face, will be won, because we defended the values of equality and freedom and democracy." Hogan smiled as he gazed proudly at Old Glory flapping int he cool April breeze. "It was a hard fight. But, it was worth every bit of it." 


End file.
